


Via Dolorosa

by leiascully



Series: Spacefaring [2]
Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), The X-Files
Genre: Crossover, Gen, dashakay: spacefaring verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-05
Updated: 2009-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-03 01:58:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been a frakking long day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Via Dolorosa

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: S2, Post-"The Farm"  
> A/N: For [**dashakay**](http://dashakay.livejournal.com/), who wanted to see Sam and Mulder playing Pyramid in her SpaceFaring!Mulder&amp;Scully crossover 'verse. This is a companion to her [Lord Of Kobol, Hear My Prayer](http://community.livejournal.com/secretprobation/10994.html). All for you, Dasha! I do it all for you!  
> Disclaimer: _Battlestar Galactica_ and all related characters belong to Ronald Moore, NBC Universal, Sci-Fi Channel, and Sky One. _The X-Files_ and all related characters are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and Fox Studios. No infringement is intended and no profit is made from this.

It had been a frakking long day and all Sam wanted to do was hit the court for a long practice, and then later, a beer. The Resistance was maybe the most important thing he'd ever done, but gods, it was tiring. At least the new recruits had promise. They'd found one last batch of survivors and brought them back to base. So far, they seemed to be fitting in. He'd lost Kara, but at least he had a purpose. And a Pyramid court.

Sam pushed a hand through his hair and shook his head. He put his gun into his locker and secured it, grabbed his favorite ball, and sauntered down the corridor. He had a little more spring in his step already, just thinking about the rattle of the ball into the goal. He could hear it in his mind, that sweet sound of wire and leather. He concentrated. No, he could actually hear it.

He pushed open the door and stepped out onto the edge of the court. There was someone there already. One of the new recruits, he thought, the tall guy, ex-Bureau. The guy wasn't half bad, Sam thought, watching him make a shot from half-court. The ball smacked into the goal and shuddered down the chute. The guy caught it one-handed.

"Nice shot," Sam said.

The guy caught the ball and turned. "Thanks," he said. "You're Anders, right?"

"Guilty," Sam said. "You were in the Colonial Investigation Bureau, yeah? Sorry, but I'm not great with names lately."

"Lot of circulation, I'd imagine," said the guy with dark irony. "Name's Mulder." He shifted the ball to the other hand and shook Sam's hand. His grip was firm. "Guess I'll get out of your way."

"Hang around," Sam said. "Might as well have someone to play against."

"Yeah?" Mulder said. "Not sure how great I'll be against the Bucks' power forward, but I'll give it a shot."

Sam dropped his ball at the edge of the court and stepped over the line. He stooped, fingers brushing the ground, feeling his muscles tense with familiar anticipation. "Don't worry about it. Not a lot of downtime to practice lately. I'm rusty as a Centurion from the first war."

Mulder put the ball on the ground, mirroring Sam's half-crouch. "I'll believe it when I see it," he said, grinning.

"Call it," Sam said.

"Go," Mulder said, and lunged for the goal. Sam blocked him, setting his shoulder against Mulder's chest, reveling in the sheer joyful physicality of it, after the months of planning and scrambling, fighting an enemy they rarely saw. Every move he'd made since the worlds ended had been to save his life, except for the brief reprieve he and Kara had found in his narrow cot. He checked Mulder again, but Mulder got one arm up and flung the ball over Sam's shoulder. Before Sam could stretch for it, he heard the sweet rattle and clunk as the ball shot through the goal.

"Nice one," he said, breathing a little hard.

"Beginner's luck," Mulder panted.

"We'll see," Sam said, catching the ball on the bounce and setting up. Mulder settled down across from him. "Go."

Mulder was good. Not as good as Sam was, and Sam's couple of inches on Mulder made a difference too, but it was almost an even match. Close enough to be fun, anyway. Sam felt the fierce happiness surging up in him. His attention was bounded by the chalk circle of the court. He was in the zone. He ducked to catch Mulder's shoulder with his own instead of in the ribs, holding his breath against the impact, and slid under the upraised arc of Mulder's arm to slam the ball into the goal.

"One-one," Mulder said, bracing his hands on his knees.

"Play to what, eight?" Sam teased.

"Twelve," Mulder said. "We still have civilization, don't we?"

"Precious little, buddy," Sam said, tossing the ball over and dropping one hand to the ground.

"Go," Mulder said, and their bodies crashed together. Mulder scrambled for position, but Sam dropped his hip against Mulder's thigh, batted the ball away, and flung it into the goal almost without looking.

"Two-one," he said. The familiar competitive drive was rising in him. He bared his teeth in a grin. Mulder narrowed his eyes as he caught the ball.

"Go."

This time Mulder slammed into him hard, knocking him off-balance, and two strides took him within range of the goal. He flung the ball in as Sam leaped for it. Sam caught it as it careened out the chute.

"Go."

It was perfection. It was a hot day, muggy, and Sam was soaked in sweat as he and Mulder wrestled for control of the ball. It was so godsdamn good, to feel the sweat rolling off him, to shove against someone who wasn't trying to kill him. There was nothing in his head but the struggle, the perfect trajectory of the ball, the music of grunts and shuffling feet and the clang and slap of leather against metal. It was a reprieve from war and memory.

"Twelve-ten," Sam panted. "Good game, man."

"Maybe next time," Mulder said wryly.

"No shame," Sam said. "Hey, I did nothing else with my life. Least I can do is get you a beer."

"I'll take you up on that," Mulder said.

"Good man," Sam said, slapping him on the back. "Gotta take my meds. I'll meet you on the roof in ten."

Mulder snapped his fingers and pointed. "Gotcha."

A shower would wait. Sam loped up the stairs to his quarters - he had a stash of stuff left from Kara's raids on the city. He ripped the packing of the meds with his teeth and jabbed the syringe in his shoulder, breathing out hard. It still frakking stung, after all these weeks. He tossed the syringe in the trashcan and pulled two beers out of the tiny fridge. Being the unofficial leader of the Resistance had its perks. He thought again, grabbed two more beers, kicked the fridge closed, and shoved at the door, not even wincing as his shoulder throbbed. He was gonna be sore in the morning, and that was worth it too. At least he was alive.

The roof was the only place with a breeze. Mulder was leaning on the low wall when Sam got there. Sam opened two bottles against the edge of the wall and handed one to Mulder. "Cheers, man."

"Cheers," Mulder said, clinking his bottle against Sam's. They both took a long pull, looking out over the edges of the city and the fringe of the forest. "Never thought I'd be here."

"Me either," Sam said. They stared at the scenery. "You were a Bureau man?"

"Was," Mulder said. "Was thinking about getting out anyway."

"Goverment troubles?" Sam said. "I always heard rumors."

"Some," Mulder said. "Also they frown on being in love with your partner."

"Ah," Sam said. "Fraternizing." He hesitated. It wasn't like he cared who Mulder was kissing in his off hours, but he didn't want to assume anything.

"She's something else," Mulder said.

"Ah," Sam said, relaxing. "I know one of those."

"Yeah?" Mulder said. "He or she got a name?" He swigged at his beer.

"Kara," Sam said. "Yours?"

"Scully," Mulder said, and for a moment, Sam thought he still had his pronouns confused. "Dana."

"Bureau stuff," he said, "got it. I mean, Kara calls me Anders, so."

"Love and the end of the world," Mulder said. "Nobody left to say what's abnormal." He took a sip of beer. "Especially when everyone who's left is quasi-military, calling a lover by a last name becomes the status quo. Romance becomes a luxury no one can afford. Meanwhile we're all fighting tooth and nail just to make it to the end of the day. Kara still alive?"

"Far as I know," Sam said, ignoring the throb in his chest. "Flew out of here in a Cylon Heavy Raider with the Arrow of Apollo and a Cylon hostage. My girl doesn't mess around. She takes trophies like something out of a legend. Scully?"

"Don't know," Mulder said quietly. "She's a doctor too, so I hope so. Last I knew she was on the way back from a conference on Libra."

"I'm sure the Fleet needs all the sawbones they can get," Sam asked, putting his bottle to his lips. "If she's on one of the ships, she'll be fine. From what I hear, they take care of their own. Why'd you leave the Bureau?"

"I was ass-deep in a conspiracy that ran more godsdamn deep than the seas of Kobol," Mulder said. "If you'll pardon the expression. I was done with being a patsy." He shrugged. "Being right about a worlds-ending Cylon invasion is cold comfort."

"I can imagine," Sam said. He took a long swallow of beer.

"I miss her," Mulder said suddenly. "She's my constant. They sent her in to spy on me and she took them all on. She's a crusader."

Sam shifted his weight. "I wouldn't worry about her. Not with my girl gunning down her opposition."

"She sounds like a true soldier," Mulder said.

"She's a miracle," Sam said. It was the beer, or the welcome fatigue, or the stars coming out over the trees, but he was feeling maudlin. He shifted his shoulder to feel the touch of Kara's tags against his skin under his shirt. He'd known a lot of women, and at the beginning, he'd taken advantage of his status as an athlete, but he'd never met anyone like Kara. She'd burst into his life, her gun trained on him, and changed everything. He missed her glare, her mouth, the strength of her body. He missed the fight in her. It was like a sickness. He was out of his body, looking for her among the stars, but he had to be here, leading the flock he'd gathered by accident, because he was strong and tall and seemed like he was in charge. He couldn't leave them. He couldn't forget her.

Mulder drained his beer and sighed. Sam, without looking, popped the top of the other beer off on the edge of the wall and handed it to him.

"Thanks," Mulder said.

"You've just gotta believe she'll make it back," Sam said.

"Yeah," Mulder said, his smile crooking up at one side. "Harder than it looks. Faith isn't a hot commodity at the moment."

"The worlds ended," Sam said. "The gods are dead. We make our own destinies now."

"I'll drink to that," Mulder said, and their bottles clinked together in the dying light.


End file.
